The Problem With Forty
by Resa Aureus
Summary: It's Fred Weasley's birthday - George's too - and he can't help but feel old. His wife is determined to change that.


A/N. This is a quick little story about Hermione and Fred. Obviously, this is AU - in which, Fred is not dead.

I saw that movie This is Forty and I thought it was hilarious - but also very honest. So I decided to write a little about what the Weasley twins will be once they meet that big Four-Zero.

...~oOo~...

Fred Weasley was not the young man he once was. Though, any bystander might believe he was still the same energetic, lively firework he always was, but the truth was that his back was achy, his joints cracked, and he'd like nothing more than to be in bed with his wife by eight.

There were obvious problems with these problems. He worked in a very active shop, which meant heavy box-lifting and experimenting, which did nothing for his body. And not to mention the toddlers in his life that insisted he play "broomstick" with them, which required him lifting them in the air high over his head and run around in circles, making dramatic "swoosh" noises.

And, though he knew it was only by two years, his wife was younger than him and still wanted to drag him out for "date nights" which involved dancing. And moving. Lots of moving. The only moving he didn't sigh about was in the privacy of their bedroom, on the mattress. The floor was no longer sufficient because of said back problems.

He knew it was because of all the Quidditch playing and laboratory explosions that have been key parts of his life.

George understood, though. George and his wife weren't insane enough to have children. Children added ten years each for every year they're alive. And Fred was feeling Dumbledorian in age.

April 1st used to be the day that anything could happen. George and him would raise hell, go out drinking, cause mischief until morning. But this April 1st, Fred was leaning against a corner, his eyes close. The little one had kept him and his wife up all night. He wanted nothing more than to sleep.

George shook his head in mock pity. "Oh, brother. You look pathetic."

"I am pathetic," Fred admitted lowly.

"Whipped."

"Very much so."

"And very unmanly."

"I am overflowing with estrogen."

George snorted. At least Fred was joking, which was a good sign. "Why don't you head home a little early? Only a half hour left here. I'll close up, and you go surprise your little lady."

Fred looked up, brow furrowed. "You sure, mate? This is our night, you know."

George waved it off. "We've had lots of birthdays, and we'll have dozens more, Merlin willing. I think the world will hold itself together if the Weasley twins don't do anything for one April Fool's. Just think... by our silence, the universe will be more baffled than ever. It's like a prank in itself. Let them fear mischief that will never come."

Fred sighed and smirked. "You're the best, Gred."

"Yes, I am, Forge. Now go home. Kiss the nieces and nephew hello for me."

Fred patted George firmly on the shoulder and left.

Fred had the habit of walking home as opposed to Apparating. It was time to clear his head, to stretch his legs, and think up new ideas for the shop. It was also his small attempt to staying in shape, something his wife pestered him about constantly. She was on a health kick and would jog every morning and eat nothing but grapefruit for breakfast.

What was that about? That's not real breakfast! If his mother heard, she'd have a fit. She'd barge in one morning with a pound of bacon and grease to spare.

On his walk out of Diagon Alley, Fred looked down at his stomach. Soft, yes. Not fat. Never fat. Just... let's say, his Beater abs were only a memory. He felt particularly...pudding-y.

He would jog with his wife if he didn't value his sleep so much.

His home was not "in" London, but on the outskirts, where things were a little less... busy. And okay, so maybe he lied a little about walking all the way home - he usually walked half and took a trolley the rest of the way. He loved trolleys, their little bells, and how much you bounced in the seats as it rolled along.

Fred got off the trolley two blocks from his house and decided to test something out. He tried jogging. He was in no way dressed for it, but pumping his arms and moving as buoyantly as possible, Fred jogged the last two blocks and as he walked up the stone path to the door he was out of breath.

Alright. So morning jogs were out of the question.

Fred opened his door the Muggle way, with a key. It was one of the prices of living in a Muggle neighborhood, but his in-laws were only four blocks away and for some reason that was an incentive to live there... Shaking his head, Fred had no clue how he'd lost that debate, but there he was. Women were mind-ninjas.

When he opened the door, the house was dim. His wife had probably coaxed the kids into a nap so that she could find some peace in a book in her study.

"I'm home, love," he called out, only loud enough for the first floor.

Then, like a _Lumos Maxima_, every light half-blinded him and there was a shouted, "SURPRISE!"

Fred had to blink a few times to adjust to it all. There was sparklers and whizbangs and a big banner that said "HAPPY 40TH BIRTHDAY!" His house was packed with almost every person he knew. His parents, all of his brothers, his little sister Ginny. George and Angelina. Lee Jordan was there with his partner, Michael. Luna and Neville. All the people who had been part of Potterwatch.

But, most importantly, in the center was the most beautiful woman in his life.

"Happy Birthday, Fred!" Hermione said, giggling like a madwoman.

A goofy grin came onto his face and he couldn't stop it.

Three little monsters came at him from different angles.

Hugo, his only boy and only brunette, was six years old and covered in freckles. He gripped Fred hard around the waist while his little sisters went at his ankles like excitable puppies.

The twins Nora and Emma were both redheaded and had big calf brown eyes that could get them just about whatever they wanted if combined with a pout. They were only three, but bright like their mother and Nora was quite the troublemaker while Emma was a rule-abiding citizen of the Weasley household.

Fred hefted his girls into his arms and looked over to his wife where his oldest girl stood, thirteen years old, next to her mother. Jane's curly red hair was up in a ponytail, as it always was, and her blue eyes shone.

Hermione had obviously pulled a few strings to borrow Jane from Hogwarts, and he felt something tug at his heart. Call him a softie, but he missed his baby girl sorely when she was away.

"Daddy," Jane said, and immediately threw away whatever maturity she was trying to uphold by not ambushing him with her younger siblings. She ran at him, holding him tight around his chest. Fred kissed her head five times.

He felt himself getting choked up, but it went awake quickly as he was massacred by the rest of the guests.

It wasn't until after Happy Birthday was sung and the massive magenta and orange cake was cut into that Fred got the story of how the party came to be.

Hermione put a Firewhiskey into Fred's hand as she said, "This was all George's idea, you know."

"Should've known," Fred said, shaking his head. "Leave it to him to get the upperhand on our birthday. Never fear, dear George, there will be revenge for pulling a prank without me, _on me_, no less."

George snickered and said, "I look forward to it."

Hermione slid into Fred's lap and said with a smile,"He said you seemed down lately. I know you haven't been feeling well. So, he thought it would be fun to throw a party for both of you, but have it be a surprise for you. And the moment I told Jane, she started begging me to talk to McGonagall about letting her out for a day. Your mother and I have been going mad all week."

Fred looked around at his and his brother's party. Everyone was talking, drinking, dancing. Everything was covered in his favorite colors, and his favorite foods were being served by the bucketload in the kitchen.

"This does make me feel better," Fred admitted quietly to Hermione.

She pressed a kiss to his temple. "I'm glad."

Giddy with birthday glee and his wife of eighteen years' perfume, he pulled her close and blew raspberries into her cheek. Everyone laughed, George the loudest, and the twins were quick to climb onto him and their mother, asking to be next.

And all night, his joints didn't crack once and his back had never felt better.

...

"That was great," Fred reflected as he crawled into bed. Everyone had left and all the kids were passed out in their bedrooms. "Easily one of my top five favorite birthdays."

"Well," Hermione called from the closet, "I have a feeling its about to become number one on that list." She swung out of the closet in a set of very lacy, very see-through lingerie, garter-belt included with their sexy stockings.

Fred smirked. "I think you might be right."

"What do you think?" Hermione said, her cheeks pink. She didn't stand like a normal woman wearing lingerie would stand. Though she was a genius, clever, and extremely confident, somewhere buried deep she was still an insecure little girl, ready to run to the girls' room to cry at a moment's notice.

"I think... you're incredible," Fred said, shaking his head in disbelief.

She started walking over to the bed. "I meant this...thing." She gestured vaguely at her body. "It's not like I haven't worn pretty knickers before, but never something this elaborate."

Fred chuckled. "You're gorgeous. As beautiful as the day I married you. Maybe even more so."

Her blush deepened and Hermione climbed onto the bed and crawled playfully up to him. When she was before him, he tucked his hand into her hand and rubbed her cheekbone with his thumb.

"You're still handsome, too," she told him.

"That's one thing that will never change," Fred promised her with a wink.

Hermione rolled her eyes at his cockiness, but was overjoyed to see her husband back in high spirits. "So... your final present is satisfactory?" she clarified a final time.

"Quite so," Fred assured her, playing with the red ribbon that seemed to be responsible for holding up her breasts. "Though, if it isn't too much to ask, I'd like one more gift for my birthday?"

"Well, it is your special day," Hermione granted. "So, your wish is my command."

"Don't jog tomorrow morning," Fred said.

Hermione laughed. Typical Fred. "You've given me a hard time about my jogging since I started. What is so absurd about getting a little exercise?"

"For seventeen years, I have woken up in this bed with my wife," Fred told her. "That is a long time. And suddenly, out of nowhere, this year I have been waking up alone. If I wanted to wake up alone, I'd use a Time-Turner to go back to my bachelor days."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow at him. "You know..." she ran her nails lightly down his bare chest. "I read an article that exercise is known to be a very efficient aphrodisiac." She smiled coyly at him and ran her nails back and forth along his boxer line.

God, she was hot, Fred thought. Heat pooled in his belly like he was a sixteen-year-old again. She never ceased to do that to him - make him feel young.

Taking her by her hips, he rolled them over so that she was on her back. He kissed her slowly, deeply, taking his time. He didn't feel tired at all, even though it was practically midnight. This very well could have been the best day of his life.

Fred was suckling her throat when he heard Hermione say, "You know, I was thinking about taking a break from jogging anyway."

"Mhmm," Fred said, not entirely paying attention as he worked at the ribbon with intent fingers. The lace was coming apart, slowly revealing more pale, milky skin for his mouth to explore.

"Because, really, who wants to see a pregnant lady in skin-tight jogging clothes so early in the morning in the park, right?"

"Mmm..." Fred's noncommittal noise faded quickly, as did his libido. He looking up, blinking to find his wife biting her lip.

It took him a long time to say, "Er... pardon?"

"Surprise?" Hermione said meekly.

Fred said nothing, just stared. He struggled to find words.

Then Hermione started laughing. Uncontrollably. "April Fool's!" she exclaimed, her eyes tearing up with mirth.

Fred's heart stopped and re-started all within three seconds. "You... you are evil," he said, shaking his head. But then, he couldn't help it, he started laughing too.

"You should have seen your face!" Hermione said between giggles. "That was... oh, that was priceless. But, truly, Fred, would it have been so bad? You love our babies, don't you?" Her smiled was broad, she was still slightly shaking from laughing, her hand stroked his cheek lovingly.

"I love those little beasts, all four of them," Fred said, nodding. "But, Christ, I don't think I could handle another. I mean, we thought we were sneaking Emma and Nora right under the wire. And we were only expecting one. Imagine if you were pregnant again - what if it was another set of twins?" Fred, wide-eyed, flopped onto his back dramatically. "Could we, like, return one?"

Hermione snickered. "This coming from a man who had six siblings."

"And it was hell," Fred said. "I love mayhem, you know that, and it was fun to ruffle all their feathers, but there's a definite point where enough is enough... and my parents clearly weren't familiar with that point."

Hermione looked at him mischievously. "So if I asked you for another baby, you'd say no?"

Fred snorted. "I'd say go ask George. Same DNA, only this time, it's his turn."

Hermione smacked Fred in the chest good-naturedly. "Shut up and make love to me."

"That prank was very cruel. I'm impressed."

"Well, you don't stay married to Fred Weasley for eighteen years without learning a thing or two."

"Merlin, I love you."

"And I love you."

THE END

...~oOo~...

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~


End file.
